Schadenfreude
by Caedi.Tarian
Summary: Another World Cup win for his Oranje and a nice beer in a wonderfully Denmark-free bar for himself… If he wasn't currently running from a mob of murderous otakus, Netherlands would be in heaven. "They're out for blood. Yours, specifically."


**Schadenfreude  
****Main Pairing**: None, but more brief mentions of one sided Netherlands x random women and a brief Denmark x random Dutch lady fling  
**Rating:** T, 'cause Netherlands is a bit too fond of violence and Denmark has a mouth  
**Info**: _What is this I don't even_… Well, I promised my sister I would write a fic based on the Netherlands vs Japan game, but I didn't really want to. So, this is a (non serious probably most definitely cracktastic) Group E story instead, with mentions of both of Saturday's Group E matches. This is a follow up (aka sequel) to my World Cup fic "Subterfuge", with the events of that fic heavily referenced to in this one. So, this probably won't make complete sense on its own.  
**Warning:** I suck at writing Japan. Sorry.  
**Disclaimer: **The nations do not belong to me and the plot fodder background characters are just that. _Fodder_.

::...::

She was looking at him, she had to be. Netherlands slowly lifted the ice pack from his left eye to catch a glimpse of the South African beauty, who was, as expected, glancing in his direction. He smirked when she quickly averted her gaze upon seeing that she had been caught. The rest of the women erupted into laughter as her dark cheeks flushed in embarrassment. This was finally turning out to be a great day, even if-

"Netherlands-san, are you feeling all right?"

Yes, even if he was sitting in a bar next to Japan, the nation of the team his Oranje had just beaten several hours ago. Netherlands looked at his fellow nation with his one good eye warily. Sure, they had been on fairly good terms for years now, but who was seriously this amiable with their opponent so soon after a defeat? It was a little unnerving. "Yes," he said simply. After all, it wasn't as if a black eye and a few scrapes could do any real damage to him.

At this Japan frowned. "You just had a strange expression when you were looking over there."

"It's called _happiness_," Netherlands said flatly, ignoring Japan's resulting head tilt of confusion. "Look. See this here?" He set his beer on the bar and motioned to it. "I can put my drink down without having to worry about Denmark 'accidentally' spilling it in my lap or 'forgetting' that it wasn't his. Now look at that." Here he swept a hand toward the half empty bar and the few dinner tables near the entrance. "This is a nice, quiet place. No obnoxious drunks, no _Denmark_. Also, that." Once he was sure that the lady from before was looking out the window, he casually pointed to her table. "See that table of women? See the pretty one with her hair up? She's interested and so am I, and there is _no Denmark_ to ruin this for me."

"I had thought you and Denmark-san were friends." The Asian nation looked from Netherlands' beer to Netherlands himself, eyes wide at this revelation and the fact that he had never heard the taller nation string so many words together at one point in time. "That is not so?"

What was with people assuming they were friends? Netherlands sighed, exasperated. "No. He is troublesome. Why? What's with that look?"

Japan bowed his head immediately. "I'm sorry, I didn't know!"

Before Netherlands could ask what he was talking about, the front door was rammed open with a ferocious _bang_. As it rebounded off the wall, Netherlands could see that the door handles had smashed a fairly large hole into the wall's surface. "Oh, no…"

If that blond idiot had not been a self satisfied grade A bastard the last time Netherlands had seen him, he certainly was now. Fine, so the red and white jacket, scarf, gloves, and shoes could just be simple team spirit considering the Danes _had_ won. Still, any normal person would just be overjoyed at such a win, _happy_. As Denmark caught sight of the two nations at the bar, Netherlands could clearly see the blond man's expression. That was not happy. That was the crazed "pillage towns and rape their damsels" mania from back in the Viking days.

"Hey, Holland, how about those Danes!"

Was that Cameroon trailing in behind him? Netherlands immediately felt sorry for the African country as Denmark grabbed Cameroon's arm and proceeded to drag the reluctant nation behind him. And, because it seemed that fate hated the Dutchman, Denmark was immediately distracted by the table of women near the entrance.

"Again, I am sorry." Japan watched the two other nations as they hovered near the humans' table, his normally passive expression turning disapproving. "He called shortly before you arrived and asked where we were meeting. Denmark-san seems to think that you are good friends."

As Denmark then briefly shouted something about having invited a random crowd to come drink with them, Netherlands lowered the ice pack from his eye and tossed it onto the bar. "It's all right. Good intentions, right?" Although, he was definitely planning on escaping the bar before Denmark's "random crowd" came to join them. Experiencing that just once was one time too many.

Japan looked to the black eye with even more concern than the first time he had seen it. "I suppose you still aren't going to tell me how that happened."

To tell the truth or not to... Eh, it wasn't worth it. The tiny Asian country already felt bad enough as it was, and it was hardly fair to just add to that. Netherlands shrugged. "I was fighting a pride of lions."

Suddenly Denmark was between them, almost knocking Japan out of his chair and causing Netherlands to jump out of his own to put distance between himself and the other European nation. "Ahaha, Holland, you're all beaten up! You know, it looks like you got in a fight with America or something!"

That idiot's antics were beginning to draw more stares than was safe, and Netherlands glared at the blond nation, who still had a scowling Cameroon in a vice grip. "Keep your voice down or stop saying my name! There are humans here!"

"I agree with Netherlands-san," Japan hissed, steadying himself. "You are causing too much of a disruption!"

Cameroon finally managed to escape Denmark's grasp then, but the European nation did not notice. Instead, he suddenly found amusement in poking, rather harshly, at the bruises on Netherlands' arm. "Aw, come on. I'll just tell them it's just a nickname."

Japan paused momentarily as Cameroon slipped into the chair on his other side and went on to order an ungodly amount of alcohol of various sorts before turning his attention back to Denmark. "Please do not draw too much attention to us."

Without a single sign that he had heard, Denmark hopped into Netherlands' vacated seat. He purposefully turned his back to the other two, his ever present grin at its absolute brightest even as Netherlands glared at him. "Speaking of humans, Holland, your little Dutch bartender friend from last time was pretty awesome. She-"

'_He's just a moron with no sense of self preservation. Just ignore him_.' If only it were that easy. Netherlands sat heavily in the next chair over, trying and failing to look away from the intolerable Denmark as he yammered on. '_If I had just killed him when I first wanted to, none of that would have happened!_'

"-at it for hours and then we even met up the next two nights, too. I've heard the term 'fucking like bunnies' before, but I didn't know they were talking about _your_ peop-"

Japan clung to the bar once again to keep from tumbling from his chair, and he, and a mostly disinterested Cameroon, looked to the two European nations. Denmark was currently in a heap on the floor, Netherlands once again on his feet and with the look of a madman. "Ah, Netherlands-san! You need to calm down! This is a public place!"

Public place or not, he had to wipe that infuriating _smile_ off of that man's face. However, even as he knelt, rammed a knee in Denmark's stomach, and gave him another furious punch to the jaw, he was still smiling.

"Aw, why are you so mad, Nederland?" Denmark casually placed his hands under his head, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. "You almost looked proud when I taught that man a lesson back at your place. Wait, that was before you realized it was to get in the lady's pants instead of protecting your manly virtue, wasn't it? Oh. Darn!"

There was absolutely no way. This was Denmark, and Denmark had the mental capacity of a potato for all that Netherlands cared. He had written off that incident at his favorite pub, Ruben's, as a simple fluke, but now… "You are insufferable." And, with that, he rammed a fist into the bastard's temple. Then, his nose for good measure. Actually, it was that stupid smile of his that was so obnoxious, so the last was to the mouth. "I told you to _stay away_, Denmark." Netherlands lowered his voice even further, using every ounce of self restraint he had to keep himself from murdering the other nation right then. "Don't you _ever_ cross me again if you value your pathetic life at all."

The problem with Denmark was that he had a ridiculously high pain tolerance, and, though he was no longer grinning like a fool, a slight smirk remained. "Haha! Me? I wouldn't be worrying about_ me_ if I were you. Remember all those people I invited? They should be here any time now!"

Finally noticing that Japan was trying to tug him away from his victim, Netherlands got to his feet. _Oh, perfect… This evening is getting better and better._ Now not only were the human customers now watching them warily, including that beautiful lady at the far table, but a large man from behind the bar was now sauntering toward them. Great, that's what they got for fighting in a respectable bar. Thrown out.

Japan bowed to the large bartender as the man approached. "We are very sorry for the trouble, and we will be leaving right now," he said firmly, glaring at Netherlands from the corner of his eye. "We are _all_ deeply sorry."

"Hey, Holland, they're here!"

Netherlands, though loathe to acknowledge anything Denmark had to say, looked to the now closed front door. A low rumble sounded from outside, like the manic tattoo of a rampaging army… It had to be Denmark's "random crowd". Yes, it was definitely time to leave. The door slammed open then, however, and Netherlands found himself frozen to the spot.

"There!" A young man, with bizarrely colored hair spiked at odd angles and wearing what looked to be a vibrant Japanese hanten, suddenly pointed at the bar. To Netherlands. "It's that guy! Get him!"

_It's that mob again!_ Netherlands could only stare as the giant crowd surged through the door, all strange hair and cosplaying costumes and _fury_. Right after leaving the stadium that afternoon after the match, he had been set upon by this lot. At first they had been little to worry about, but the wrath of an entire crowd of teenagers had eventually proven a little too much if he did not want to harm them.

"Netherlands-san, come, move!" Japan was tugging furiously at his arm, finally managing to tear Netherlands from his horrified reverie. "Over here through the back!"

::...::

"Netherlands-san, is that who did that to you?"

For a moment Netherlands just stared at the opposite wall of the alley that was their current hiding place. "It wasn't as if I could just beat them all to a pulp. They're _kids_. I have no idea why they're still chasing me, though. I thought they would have given up hours ago."

"That must have been why Denmark-san wanted to know where you were earlier. Hmm. They did look a bit like otakus, just an international bunch." Japan frowned in thought at this revelation. "You said they first attacked you after the game? Maybe they were bitter about the outcome of the match and Denmark-san somehow managed to direct their anger toward you." He shook his incredulously. "Whatever it is, they blame you for something. They're out for blood. Yours, specifically."

"So your current theory is that they're trying to kill me because _Oranje won_?"

"No, more as in because the Samurais lost."

"I FOUND HIM."

Both nations looked to the alley entrance as the colorful crowd flocked to the single girl who had spotted them. It was like a sea of hatred, violent colors, and horribly excessive amounts of eyeliner.

"Japan, I assume that they'll let you go, right?" Netherlands said under his breath, to which Japan did not reply. Great. Now if Japan got hurt, that was just something_ else_ to add to his conscience while he was tortured.

One of the otakus stepped forward, eyes wide with blood lust and glazed over like one who has had too much caffeine to be at all healthy. "Hey, you, random Japanese guy! We don't have any beef with you, so you can go!"

Japan looked genuinely surprised at this. He looked over the crowd momentarily before looking up to Netherlands. "You do realize they can't actually kill you, Netherlands-san. Hopefully my theory was correct," he whispered. Then, he turned his attention back to the otaku army. "You cannot simply attack a man because his favored football team won a match, even if it was against the Japanese!"

Netherlands watched his companion in disbelief, daring a glance to the crowd to see if they were going to listen to him. However, they just looked confused.

"What?" It was that same kid with the crazy eyes. "We didn't attack anyone! Well, at least we didn't mean to. It's just that whenever we got close to that guy, he kept flailing about, so it was practically self defense!"

Another stepped forward, her face twisted into an indignant scowl. "That guy with the red and white jacket told us _this_ guy was the head Netherlandic person and that he rigged the game!"

"Whoa, wait a minute!" Netherlands held up a hand to catch the attention of the rabid crowd, hoping with every fiber of his being that they could settle this peacefully. "First of all, that would be Dutchman, not _Netherlandic person_. Secondly, how is it even possible for me to have rigged the game? Thirdly, I have no idea how you could mistake me for the coach if that is what you mean by 'head person'." At this he looked to Japan, perturbed. "I don't look like Van Marwijk, do I?

The Asian nation shrugged. "If you were not attacking him, then what were you doing?"

"Conversion!"

"If we make him one of us, then we can show him the error of his ways!"

It was just for a moment, but Netherlands could have sworn he saw a deeply sadistic smile on the Asian nation's face. Then he offered Netherlands an apologetic one before addressing the hoard once more. "_Oh_, I see. That isn't so bad. Actually, I could help with that."

"_Japan_?" The shorter nation was soon lost in a sea of teenagers as they leaped into motion, and all Netherlands could see were cans of temporary hair dye and bright fabric and, oh shit, that had definitely _not_ be kohl. He turned and ran, despite knowing that the alley ended in just another ten feet, unable to just stand and let them overtake him. Before he had even taken two steps, a vice-like grip on his ankle brought him slamming into the ground and suddenly they were surrounding him.

_They can't do this! Not without suffering casualties!_ Netherlands lashed out at the nearest otaku, only to have his arm grabbed by no less than six others. It was only then that the terror began to finally sink in. He was trapped with no way out. Maybe they wouldn't kill _him_, but he was certain that his pride's chances of survival were exceedingly slim.

_Next time I see him, Denmark will die!_

**FIN**

::...::

**AN:**

I'll leave it mostly up to your imagination as to how they murdered Netherlands' pride. D:

If you haven't picked up on it by now, there is going to be one more Netherlands/Group E fic since there is one more group round yet to go (it won't be set in a bar, I swear). Denmark wasn't supposed to be so prominent in this one originally. What an attention whore. Actually it's because I think Japan is too nice and decent to initially do anything to Netherlands just because of the results of the World Cup match, so someone else had to get the plot in motion. Yep. I would have just tacked this onto "Subterfuge" as a second chapter, but I actually liked that one... So. Yeah.

ON ANOTHER UNRELATED NOTE, for some horribly ironic reason I subconsciously picture Hetalia!Netherlands as an older version of Nicklas Bendtner. That scarf thing he wore before the Cameroon vs Denmark game reinforced this in my mind even further and the damage is so deep that I _can't unsee it_. AGH, THE IRONY.


End file.
